Fighting Chance
by phantomofthehummus
Summary: Brad "Chickenheart" Vickers fights to stay alive and make up for his past mistakes. After meeting up with Dario and Lucia Rosso, Brad decides to take a chance and learn to protect others. Now, all he has to do is find Jill and escape the city. If he can survive, that is. My attempt at writing RE3: Nemesis from Brad's POV.
1. Chapter 1

_September 28__th__. Daylight. The monsters have overtaken the city. Somehow, I'm still alive…_

**Chapter One**

A chilly autumn wind crept in through the open window. Tattered newspaper clippings pinned to the aging walls fluttered in the breeze. They detailed the Spencer Estate incident, and the subsequent outbreaks of a deadly sickness that had reached the surrounding community of Raccoon City.

"Survivors of the Mansion Incident Search for Missing Albert Wesker, Former S.T.A.R.S. Captain," "Sickness Linked to Arklay Mountain Incident Sweeps the City," the headings declared from their spaces on the wall.

Across the sparsely-decorated room, Brad Vickers sat on his unmade bed, phone in hand. The cord spiraled evenly from the phone to the receiver. He idly plucked it with his free hand.

"Pick up, Jill. Please," he said in a low voice. He had been trying to get a hold of her for the past couple of days, but he never got an answer. After what had happened to their team back in the mountains, the remaining members had decided to work together to expose the Umbrella Corporation and their horrifying experiments. Of course, Brad had left them there. He couldn't let himself forget that. Bravo team needed their help, and he flew away from them all like a fucking coward. No, there was no forgetting such a thing.

But he wanted to do what was right this time around.

He dialed once more, hearing only empty ringing in his ear. She must have left by now. She had to have left. Brad slammed the phone back down onto the receiver and stood up. He clenched his fists and walked briskly across the bedroom. With his right hand, he threw open a sliding door, revealing a small musty-smelling closet. He eyed his S.T.A.R.S. uniform with the yellow vest and camouflage trousers. Wearing it back when the team was still something that mattered had always made him feel powerful, tough. He knew it was kind of ridiculous. Sure, the vest could serve as protection, but this outfit gave him no extra strength or anything. Still, he reached his hands into the closet, grasping the clothing and yanked it from its place on the wire hanger.

After examining himself in the mirror above his bathroom sink once more, he was startled by a heavy thud on the door to the apartment. He approached the door with caution, and looked through the peephole. No one seemed to be on the other side.

Another thud caused the door to vibrate, and Brad leaped back, grasping his nine millimeter and taking aim. The action seemed a bit dramatic, but he was on edge.

"Help me, please!" a voice cried. It was a woman. She did not sound familiar, but her scream left tingles in Brad's knees. He put his gun down and went to open the door.

A young woman, looking about sixteen, burst in through the open door.

"Close it! They're out there!" she yelled at Brad. He stared at her in confusion, and was only brought back to reality when a strong hand wrapped around his ankle. The woman shrieked and dove to the far side of the room. Brad looked down to see a man's body sprawled across the hallway floor. His green tee shirt was torn in several spots and was stained through with dried blood. His arms were ashen and covered with eerie purple and blue veins. Brad stared into the man's eyes, which were vacant and icy gray. Brad shook his leg violently, breaking free of the man's grasp just before he had tried to bite his ankle.

"Kill it!" the woman cried out after she had calmed some.

Brad readied his pistol, knowing all too well what was afflicting this man. He took aim at the man's head. But he couldn't fire.

"What are you waiting for?" the woman said.

"I-I…damn it." Brad muttered. He recalled all those times in training where he'd messed up and gotten hell from Wesker. All the names his so-called teammates had called him. Even on that day in the forest, Joseph and Chris had heaved insults at him throughout the whole flight. He was a chickenshit, an idiot, a child. And now he couldn't even shoot this diseased bastard in the head to save this woman. This woman who had picked his apartment to come to for help. And now they were both going to die because of him.

Without warning, the woman grabbed the gun from Brad's frozen hands. She said nothing, merely took aim and fired a single shot into the dead man's face.

"There," she said, handing him back his pistol.

"I'm sorry. I… Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Brad said. He placed the gun back in its holster with shaking hands.

"My dad taught me. Look, thanks for letting me in." she said.

"Yeah. Name's Brad." He offered his hand.

"Lucia," she said, turning to face the door. Brad let his hand fall back to his side, and walked up to her.

"The shit's hit the fan, all right," Brad said.

"I knew people were getting sick, dying even. But I didn't know they'd…come back." Lucia said, crossing her arms and staring at the corpse in the doorway.

"Didn't you say there were more out there?" Brad said nervously, reaching for his gun.

"I thought it would convince you to help me," Lucia spoke with a smile. "He was the only one on this floor. We got lucky."

"Lucky…Right." Brad walked toward his open window, looking down at the street below. It had been empty, devoid of everything except some parked cars. Now there were people. Many were walking quickly, some had started running. Others were trying to pack things into their vehicles.

"They're evacuating the city?" Brad asked.

"No. People just started realizing that the dead were getting up and attacking, so they thought it'd be best to go." Lucia said. She sure was handling what seemed like the end of the world with a sense of humor. Brad eyed her, waiting for her to continue speaking.

"All right. Brad, is it?" she began. "Brad, my father and I live a few doors down. We want to leave the city, but we need some help."

As soon as she had finished speaking, a heavy-set man in a brown suit entered the apartment. Brad turned to face the man, forcing himself to gulp down the anxiety that was steadily creeping up on him. Of course they had come to him for help. Brad Chickenshit Vickers.

"I don't recognize you," Brad said.

"We don't live here. My mother does…did," the man muttered. He looked at Brad with red eyes. This man had already seen some hellish things judging from the look on his face.

"We've been staying at the Apple Inn downtown. We came to visit family." Lucia offered, shifting uncomfortably. Brad looked from her to her father, biting his lip. The three of them stood in the small, shabby apartment for a few moments. Dario Rosso, Lucia's father, explained how the two, along with his wife, had come into the city only two days ago. Dario's mother had been sick. That morning, she had died in her sleep. But she hadn't stayed dead.

Now, they needed to evacuate the city. But not before going back by the hotel they had been staying in to pick up Maria, Dario's wife.

Lucia stood by the window. She ran her fingers through her blonde bob. She sighed and turned back to Brad with tears in her eyes.

"She is still alive, and we need to get her and get the hell out of here. With or without your help." She walked past Brad and out into the hall. Dario stood awkwardly by the door, looking uncertain of what he should do. He waited.

"I'm not the guy you want, but I can try." Brad said after a moment. He secured his gun and walked to the door, turning to look at his former home one last time.


	2. Chapter 2

The hall outside Brad's apartment was empty, except for the body of the man Lucia had shot moments earlier. The corpse rested in a pool of drying blood that left a metallic scent lingering in the stale air. Brad walked around the body and headed toward an elevator with Dario and Lucia trailing a few feet behind him. They were whispering indistinctly to each other.

"Power seems to be out," Brad said, interrupting the hushed conversation.

"Looks like we're taking the stairs," Lucia said. Her father shifted nervously beside her. Sweat slicked his forehead. He reached up and swiped it away with his palm, wiping the moisture on his slacks. Brad felt a surge of confidence. He was not the most uncomfortable one in this group. This was a change of pace he could get behind. Back at S.T.A.R.S., he was the village chickenshit. Whenever Alpha team set out on an investigation, Brad was always the one who lagged behind, terrified. Of course the others noticed and pointed out his flaws. It was like high school all over again. Brad had hoped joining an elite unit within the police department would secure him a higher place than the kid he had been years prior, but it seemed he had no such luck. With Dario cradling most of the anxiety, Brad snagged his chance to prove himself.

Pistol in hand, Brad opened the stairwell door at the end of the hall. Darkness pooled inside the stairwell, but the area was still visible.

"Be careful, it's dark in here. Stay close." Brad said.

The three descended at a slow pace. Thankfully, the stairwell was clear. They had made it to the first floor with no trouble. This only made Brad nervous. Sure, they had been lucky enough to make it this far, but outside was a different field entirely. The streets that had just been cleared of survivors would now be filled with hungry undead. Although Brad had been spared the Spencer Estate incident, he often heard stories of its horrors in the office back the R.P.D. Kevin, Joseph, Kenneth, Forest, hell a bunch of his teammates had been massacred in that place. And that was an isolated mansion in the woods. The city would be worse.

"The inn is a ways off from here." Brad said, stalling the inevitable.

"My wife needs me." Dario said without a hint of anxiousness in his voice.

Brad bit his tongue and glared up the exit sign that lingered above them in the darkness, each letter a gray, lifeless silhouette. He pressed into the door gently and felt the bitter autumn air sweep inside. He was as ready as he could be, but he feared that would not be enough.

The apartment building Brad had been living in for the past several years was located right across from Bar Jack's. After most investigations, the S.T.A.R.S. team would meet up for drinks at the small pub. Though the guys never invited him to hang out after work, Jill always had made a point to ask him to tag along. Chris would get hammered and bash Brad for being such a wimp, but Jill stepped in. She was the only person he really trusted and liked at work. Besides the rookie kid Rebecca. But Brad found himself taking his frustration out on her the most because she was so young. She was an easy target, and inexperienced at that. Taunting her had made him feel he had the upper hand with someone at least. Staring at the bar now, its sign still flickering, he hoped he would get a chance to apologize to Rebecca for being such an ass.

The streets were unexpectedly calm. The remaining cars that littered the street were abandoned, most had been wrecked and blocked off some of the roadways. Brad inhaled the cool air and leapt down the steps leading from the door of his apartment to the road. The door to safety was shut, and there was no turning back. Brad led the way down the street, passing the apartment buildings next to his home and a small boutique and other shops that were nestled beside the bar. Another barricade was present at the end of the road.

"That road block looks like it was done on purpose," Lucia said. Brad nodded. The R.P.D. would do something sloppy like that. They were not trained for anything like this, and the few remaining S.T.A.R.S. members were not around to assist with planning for an entire city. Maybe the blockades were the beginning of a quarantine, but Brad could not be certain.

"With the main road blocked like this, we'll have to take another path." Brad said.

"Well, lead the way. We don't have time to waste." Dario muttered.

They headed for a door beside the blockade that opened into the alleyway behind the bar. A man stood directly in front of the door, clasping one arm tightly. Blood poured through his fingers from a large wound. He looked up at the three with a dazed expression. Brad gulped.

"Please," the man whimpered. "Help."

Brad reached into the pocket of his vest and dug around. He never carried medical supplies. Rebecca was the medic. Lucia stepped forward and tore the sleeve of her blouse. She kneeled and wrapped the man's wound carefully.

"We need to get him something for the bleeding." She said, helping the man to his feet. Brad nodded and led the group into the alley. Down the path and off to one side there was a set of stone steps that led to the back of the bar. A dumpster overflowed with junk. A crude set of chalk drawings lined the ground behind the bar among some discarded toys. Stumbling among the toys were two men in tattered clothing. Blood stained their torn shirts in patches. They limped along mindlessly. Then, one of them looked up at the group and groaned. He stumbled toward the steps.

"We need to move," Dario said, grabbing Lucia's arm and pulling her away from the wounded man.

"Dad, please." She said, trying to steady the man.

Brad aimed at the zombie that had made it up the steps. Once again, fear froze his hands. All he had to do was aim and shoot. Aim and shoot. But his fingers numbed and he fumbled with the pistol, trying to keep it steady.

"Shoot him! What are you waiting for?" Dario called out.

Brad squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

"The goddamn thing is jammed!" he cried. He pulled again, but the trigger was caught and the gun refused to fire. The zombie was closing in on them. Brad dodged to the left of the creature and fled down the alley. He turned to motion for the others to do the same. Dario shoved Lucia past the zombie and told her to run. The zombie caught hold of his sleeve.

"Dad, no!" Lucia cried.

Dario grunted and pushed the zombie down. Its hands firmly grasped the sleeve and ripped it from Dario's coat. Dario managed to stumble past the zombie.

The wounded man was left in the corner by the door where he had fallen. He was not moving. The zombie eyed him but made no move to attack. Instead, it swiveled around and headed for Dario, with his sleeve still clamped in its fingers.

"Move, now!" Brad said, grabbing Dario and his daughter and dragging them down the alley. Lucia kept looking behind as they fled.

"What about him?" she said. Her eyes were wide with panic. Brad did not answer her, but kept running until they had entered another section of the alley with a door between them and the monsters.

"We have to go back." Lucia said, her eyes gleaming and wet. "We can't just leave him back there!"

"He's dead." Brad said. Lucia balled her fist.

"No, honey. He's right. You saw that thing didn't go after him. If he was alive, it would have torn into him right there." Dario spoke up, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder to comfort her. Her lips curled in disgust, but she unclenched her fist.

A loud crash interrupted the conversation. Further down this section of alley, another barricade had been set up. It shook with the force of whatever it was keeping locked up.

"Through that door over there we can get past the police department and head downtown to the inn," Brad said.

"But what the fuck is behind that?" Dario said, pointing to the shabby barricade.

"We're not going to find out. We just need to hurry." Brad said, pacing toward the door. The barricade shuddered and shook as they passed through the door.

A fire consumed the front of the small lab that was located nearby. The flames jumped wildly, filling the area with thick, black smoke. All the road blocks had seemed to be done to quarantine the area, but what had caused this fire to break out? Brad's eyes glowed orange with reflections of the flames. The virus that was causing this chaos was certainly connected to the mansion incident. Jill and Chris had already linked it together, but then things got bad. The whole city was overrun before they could release the information they had gathered to the press. It did not seem to be a coincidence. Umbrella was at fault for this mess, and as Brad gazed into the raging fire, he wondered what length the company would go to in order to cover it up. He licked his lips, the salt of sweat spreading across his tongue.

"Burn it up," he muttered to himself. "They're gonna burn it all up to save their asses."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Brad? Are you all right?" Lucia said with impatience.

Brad snapped out of his revelation and turned to look at her. She was about a foot shorter than he was, and quite thin. Her blonde hair was damp with sweat and a few strands of her hair were plastered across her forehead. If he had to guess, he would assume she was fairly young. Perhaps not even seventeen. And here she was having to witness all this shit. Brad thought back to his own days at Lucia's age. He was a stereotypical wimp who got bullied non-stop. But he would wish that upon Lucia right now if that meant he could save her from this nightmare. Hell, he would go back to those days himself if he could. Anything would be more manageable than corpses walking around and killing people.

"Just putting some pieces together," Brad finally spoke, he turned away and walked past the orange-tinged flames that engulfed the lab. Dario held his daughter's hand as though she were a child and the two followed closely behind.

From the flames, a growling Doberman emerged, its nails clicking against the asphalt. Brad stopped and watched the dog, trying to figure out if it would attack. Its flesh was charred from the fire, and chunks of fur were missing, revealing blackened and bleeding skin. It snarled, revealing cracked, white teeth. For a moment, it remained still. Then, it leapt at Brad. He reached for his pistol, but soon recalled it was jammed. The Doberman was on him, its fangs sinking deep into his left forearm. He balled his right fist and rammed it against the dog's head. It whimpered and tightened its grip on his arm.

Dario grabbed the dog and yanked it, trying to get it to let go. It refused to budge and only growled in response.

"This fuckin' thing's gonna tear my arm off!" Brad cried.

Dario wrapped his hands around the dog's neck. He shook with force as he strangled the beast. Slowly, it loosened its grip and fell limp on the pavement. Brad grabbed his wounded arm and applied pressure in an attempt to stop the blood flow.

"Here," Lucia said, offering Brad a torn piece of cloth. She had ripped her other sleeve apart. Brad licked the sweat from his lips as he wrapped his wound. He hoped this was not an omen; he did not want to end up like the last man Lucia had tried to save. Dario helped Brad to his feet and looked down at the dog. Its breathing was shallow. None of them dared to approach the unconscious animal, and instead left the alley-way and headed on.

"The shopping district is right ahead." Brad led the way. Since the outbreak had occurred so recently, and many of the townspeople had fled, getting downtown was easier than Brad had expected. The trio cut through the shopping district and ended up in an alley behind a restaurant located in the center of downtown.

"Can we stop inside?" Lucia asked, rubbing her stomach.

"Doubt there's much there for us, but we can take a look around." Brad said, still grasping his arm. His wound had soaked through the makeshift bandage and it throbbed.

They entered through the back of the restaurant. It was silent, except for the sound of steam spilling from some pipes in the kitchen. Something seemed to have been broken, and it looked unsafe. Brad coaxed the others to go have a seat in the main dining area. Lucia rummaged around and found some cold cuts in a cooler. She slid into a booth beside her father and they shared the sliced meat.

"Feels kind of fucked up," Lucia said with a frown.

"What does?" Brad asked, gazing at her from across the booth.

"Eating dead things while dead people try to eat us." She stated coolly.

Dario stopped chewing and gulped quickly, looking queasy.

"Guess we aren't at the top of the food chain anymore, huh?" Brad said, trying to smile.

"Not unless we're dead." Lucia said, her eyes down-cast.

A bang echoed from the kitchen. Lucia jumped in her seat and grabbed her father's arm. Brad whipped around and watched for movement. Slowly, a figure crept from the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining area.

"Sorry to interrupt dinner." The figure was a man who stood about six feet. His skin was a caramel-tan color and his hair hung around his sweating face in dark brown clumps. He wore what appeared to be some kind of military uniform.

"The military is here?" Lucia said, perking up in the booth.

"Not quite," the man said, sorrow thick in his voice. He approached the group with caution.

"Who are you then?" Brad asked, feeling uneasy.

"Name's Carlos. I'm here with Umbrella." He said.

"Umbrella? But, Umbrella is responsible for this mess!" Brad said, standing from the booth to face Carlos. Anger replaced his nervousness.

"I'm a mercenary. My team was sent in to rescue survivors." Carlos said, backing up. His eyes were focused on Brad's bleeding arm.

"It's about time," Lucia said with a wide smile, standing and walking toward the men.

"Don't go near this asshole!" Brad yelled. Lucia stopped and backed away toward her father. Dario's mouth twitched as he glared at Brad.

"Hey, man. I'm here to help, not hurt you. Calm down." Carlos said.

"Fuck you! Get out of here! We don't need your help. Umbrella's idea of help is what's walking around outside right now, waiting to take a bite out of you." Brad said, letting go of his arm and reaching for his gun. He knew it was jammed, but Carlos had no idea. Maybe threatening him would make him leave.

"Take it easy. I'll see myself out." Carlos rolled his eyes and headed for the front entrance.

"Wait! Please. Do you have a gun we can use?" Lucia asked.

"Looks like your boyfriend's packing heat already." Carlos smirked.

"That piece of junk is jammed. That's how this kid got bit by a dog." Dario stepped toward Carlos as he spoke. Carlos shrugged and unhooked a pistol from his belt and tossed it to Dario. Then he turned to exit the restaurant without uttering another word. Prominently displayed on the back of his vest was the Umbrella logo. Brad's eyes remained focused on the symbol until Carlos had left, and even after he was gone, the red and white image lingered in his mind, spinning and blurring as he chewed the inside of cheek.

"I don't get you," Lucia said, staring at Brad. Her eyes gleamed with fresh tears as she stood with her arms crossed tight across her chest. "I thought you wanted to help us. But there's help right there, and you let him walk out the fucking door!"

"Umbrella is not help. Umbrella is the corporation that engineered the fucking virus that's making people kill each other. I've done my research, now you can either trust me, or try saving yourself." Brad said, his eyes wide. He had never felt this angry. Never expressed it this openly. What was happening to him?

"You're getting us to the hotel. And after that, we're finding that soldier." Dario said, handing the pistol to Brad.

"Why are you trusting me with this? I thought you were an expert marksman." Brad scoffed, taking the gun.

"I've never shot anything in my life," Dario said, flushing red with embarrassment.

Brad's eyes flickered toward Lucia, but she had turned her back on the two and was already heading out the door. Brad checked the pistol. Fifteen bullets. He hoped it would be enough.

The street outside the restaurant was eerily silent. A few loose newspaper pages fluttered in the wind, tumbling down the sidewalk. Across the road from the restaurant, the Apple Inn loomed. The building was five stories. Every window was dark. Brad took this to be a bad sign. Dario and Lucia peered at the hotel with similar expressions of worry.

"Well, here we are," Brad spoke, his voice carrying off into the wind.

"Our room is on the second floor." Dario said, flashing Brad the key-card that unlocked the hotel room. Brad nodded and entered the lobby of the hotel, readying the pistol.

Behind the front desk, a woman slumped in a chair. Her curly gray hair covered her face. She wore a pink cardigan which was stained with blood. She did not seem to be breathing. Further into the building a hall extended toward the first floor's set of rooms. Down the hall a few figures leaned against the wall. They shifted slightly, but had not noticed Brad or the others and made no movement toward them. So far so good.

With ease, the three made it through the stairwell and up to the second floor. Brad pushed open the door to the hall. It was empty. He sighed. He was thankful that this had been so simple, but it only made him more uneasy.

"This way," Dario said, leading Brad and Lucia to room 211. He slid the card, but nothing happened.

"Power's out all over the building," Brad remarked. Dario furrowed his brow and gently tapped the door with his knuckles. A shuffling sound came from the other side of the door. The knob jerked and wobbled, but the door refused to open.

"Maria? Honey? The power's out, I can't unlock the door from out here." Dario said, his palms pressed against the door. There was no response, but the knob continued the rattle. Then, the door shook as something thudded against it from inside the room. Dario stepped back. The sound came again.

"Please, no." Dario murmured. Another thud pounded against the door. Then, a soft groaning sound came from inside the room. Lucia cupped her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob. Brad gazed under the door where a shadow blocked any light from escaping. As the thudding continued, the shadow shifted.

"We have to get inside," Dario said. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he stared at the door. His eye twitched every time another thud echoed from the door.

"Look, I'm sorry about this. I am. But there is no need to open this door." Brad said.

"I want to see my wife." Dario said. "I have to see her."

"Dad, she's…" Lucia began but did not finish speaking. Instead she stared at the carpet that covered the hall floor, her eyes filling with tears that dropped and darkened the carpet in small spots.

"She isn't dead." Dario said, turning to face Brad.

"Do you hear that? She's trying to bust this door down so she can eat us!" Brad yelled.

"I know that! I know. But she's stuck like this, do you understand? My wife is stuck in there, bashing her face against the fucking door, walking around without a soul." Dario said.

Brad shivered and nodded. The thudding continued.

"I have to take care of her. She wouldn't want this." Dario spoke softly.

Brad gulped. Maybe this was not as easy as he thought. Helping these people. Maybe he had wasted time. Maybe Maria had died while they were talking to that bastard from Umbrella. Or when the dog got him. Or the wounded man. Brad had no clue, but he felt responsible for this. Though he knew it was not his fault, he couldn't help but blame himself. He had agreed to help these people. To save them. To get them out of here, all of them. But he couldn't. He was too late. Just like he always was. He tried to shake his head free of these thoughts, but they refused to leave. This is why Chris had mocked him. He couldn't rescue his own teammates when they needed him, how the hell was he supposed to help these strangers?

"I'm so sorry," Brad whispered. He aimed the pistol at the doorknob and fired. The locking mechanism released and the door gaped open slowly. A white-gray arm wriggled through the opening and yanked the door open. A woman stood in the doorway, light seeping behind her from an uncovered window. Her face was bloodied from where she had been smashing it against the door. Her hands, too were stained red with blood. Each fingernail had been bent back from her clawing at the door. Her blonde hair was stringy and wet. She swayed in the doorway, not moving toward the group. She seemed to be waiting.

Brad took aim. Dario reached out and pushed the gun down. He took it into his own hands and aimed with unsteady precision. His hands shook as he tried to focus through his tears at his wife's mutilated face. She crept forward slowly, letting out a gurgling groan and reaching her bloody hands toward her husband. Dario steadied his aim and fired. His arms jerked from the blast, and he dropped the pistol onto the carpet. Maria fell back into the room with a soft thump.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"We have to find that soldier," Dario said with a blank stare. Lucia continued crying on the way down the stairs and into the lobby.

Brad had covered Maria's body with sheets from the hotel bed. She had been all alone in the room. Brad had noticed an empty bottle of sleeping pills by the bed. He did not mention that to Dario or Lucia. They had dealt with enough already.

The three stood at the hotel entrance, gazing out into the darkening street. Before they had entered the hotel, the streets had been vacant. Now they were swarming.

"Shit," Brad said under his breath. Lucia sniffled in an effort to stop sobbing. Dario grabbed her and pulled her closer to himself.

The street was littered with the walking dead. Brad could not tell which direction they were coming from, but there was a massive crowd just outside the hotel doors. The glass of the doors would not hold for very long once the dead noticed they were inside.

"We're gonna have to wait—" Brad began to speak but was cut off. The gray-haired receptionist had leapt over the counter and grabbed his bloody arm. She was pulling it toward her face, her mouth gaped open in a horrific grin. Brad grabbed his pistol from where he had returned it to his belt. He aimed and fired into the zombie's face. She dropped to the floor.

The zombies that had been idling down the first floor hall now turned at the sound of the gunshot. Brad faced the glass double doors leading to the street. Some of the creatures outside, too had heard the shot. They slowly shuffled toward the doors. The group had to act quickly.

"We're going to have to run for it." Brad said.

"Where the hell are we running to?" Lucia asked, throwing glances behind them down the hall. Three figures were making their way closer.

"Back to the restaurant. We can cut through and get back to my place." Brad offered.

"No, we have to find that soldier. He is our ticket out of here." Dario said, pressing his hands against the glass doors.

"Well if he's out there, he's fucked," Brad said, readying his pistol. He turned to check down the hall. The three zombies were getting too close. Brad aimed and fired. The first two went down easily. He aimed at the third and missed. His palms were slick with sweat. He wiped them off on his pants and quickly took aim again, dropping the final zombie. Nine shots left. And there were well over nine monsters lurking right outside the hotel.

"We don't have time to argue about this. We just have to go." Brad pleaded.

Dario shoved the double doors open and ran out. Brad motioned for everyone to head toward the restaurant. Lucia sprinted across the street, making it there first. Dario was a few feet behind Brad. Suddenly, one of the dead leapt for Dario, grabbing ahold of his ankle. Brad kept running and turned to aim at the zombie. He fired a shot. It hit the zombie in the torso, but the thing kept clawing at Dario's leg. He tried to kick it off but it stayed on him. The rest of the dead began crowding around Dario, closing in on him. Brad struggled to focus. He fired twice more into the crowd of zombies, but they were getting too close. He turned and ran to the restaurant.

A loud bang echoed through the street. A woman with a blue top aimed a shotgun at the crowd and fired, clearing out several of the dead. She grabbed Dario's arm and led him away from the crowd that had now engulfed the front of the restaurant. Brad watched Dario as he fled with the familiar woman and sighed, relieved that Dario had escaped. His relief was short-lived as the zombies bashed against the door to the restaurant. He turned to Lucia and signaled for her to exit through the back.

"What happened to my dad?" she asked, jogging beside Brad through the shopping district. Brad paused and leaned forward taking a moment to catch his breath.

"He made it out. I saw someone save him. Someone I know." Brad assured Lucia.

"Who? A teammate of yours?" Lucia asked.

"Yes, actually. Jill Valentine. Another S.T.A.R.S. member. Someone I trust. I'm sure they're both fine. Now we just need to meet back up with them." Brad said, looking around nervously.

"I'm surprised there are any of you left." Lucia said with a cold smile spreading across her lips.

Brad eyed her and took a step back. She had been acting strange since Carlos had shown up, but Brad had tried to shrug it off. Something was wrong.

"Why did you lie earlier? You said your dad taught you how to shoot." Brad said, gripping his pistol tight.

"You lied to us. Pretending you could help. I ought to have known. Umbrella experiments tend to fail." Lucia leaned against a wall, crossing her arms.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your little team. Just another Umbrella experiment. It's a wonder any of you made it out of that mansion. Wesker was a fool though, so that's probably the main reason it went to hell."

Brad aimed his pistol at Lucia. Sweat formed at his brow and trickled down his cheek. Who was this girl? How could she know any of this?

"I guess I'll make this short. It's not like you have much time left anyway." Lucia spoke. "My dad never taught me to shoot. He only taught me how to be a coward like him. But I knew I was better than that."

"You're a part of this, aren't you?" Brad asked, still aiming at Lucia.

"This city's going to be ash before dawn. Just wait. I'm sure Carlos sincerely believes he's here to save people, but truly, only certain folks are worth saving."

"And you think you're one of them? Just another Umbrella puppet, I'd bet. If they needed you, you wouldn't be stuck here in the first place." Brad said.

Lucia grimaced at this but tried to remain cold. She turned to walk away. "I'm sure none of this makes much sense to you, but that doesn't matter to me. I suppose I should warn you…There is a little, or rather, large experiment running around the city as we speak. But this one, I'm afraid, is designed not to fail in its task."

Brad watched Lucia exit the district. He secured his pistol back onto his belt and leaned against a shop wall. Whatever Lucia was involved in, Dario seemed to be oblivious to it. She had lied to her own family. Brad wondered whether her response to Maria's death had been for show. He shuddered at the thought.

A loud crash interrupted Brad's thoughts. The back entrance to the restaurant was only a few feet away. He turned anticipating the sight of a horde. Instead, a massive figure came into view at the end of the alley. It paced slowly, its footsteps booming through the cramped alley. It was a hulking creature, much larger than any man. One eye was stapled shut, and it had no lips to cover its long, white teeth. It was dressed in black leather attire and had disgusting tentacles threading through its neck and arm.

"S.T.A.R.S." the creature bellowed. Then, it charged. Brad tried to dodge the beast, but was too slow. He was tossed through the air and landed on his back, hitting the pavement with a thud. A sharp pain ran through his spine, paralyzing him for a brief and horrifying moment. He rolled and dragged himself down the alley and toward the exit, pulling himself along the pavement as quickly as he could manage. The creature grasped him by the back of his neck. Another sharp pain ran through his body, causing him to cry out. The creature revealed a tentacle slithering from its palm. Brad shook himself loose and dropped onto the ground. His ankles felt like shattered glass, but he swiveled and sprinted for the exit, ignoring the pain. He continued running until his heart felt like it was close to imploding. Brad found himself in another alley, but knew he was close to the bar and close to home. Before he could make it down the alley, several of the dead crowded the way.

"Hey, in here!" an unfamiliar voice beckoned.

Brad turned and saw an elderly man with a shotgun waving him toward an open door. He quickly jogged to the door and the man slammed it shut. Once Brad's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw stairs leading further down into a room. With his hand against the slimy stone wall, he made his way down the steps.

Boxes filled with unopened bottled water lined the shelves. A rusty pipe leaked from the ceiling. The room smelled of mildew. The elderly man lit a cigarette and slumped down in one corner.

"You'll be safe down here," the man exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Brad watched as the man flicked ash onto the stone floor. He held the shotgun close to his chest, rubbing it idly as if it were a cat.

"Thanks for letting me in," Brad said.

"Lots of water for ya. Not enough smokes." The man coughed and tossed an empty cigarette pack onto the ground beside him.

"Yeah. We could hold up in here for a while," Brad remarked, gazing around at the bottles of water.

As if in response to this glimmer of hope, a loud thud shook the door violently. Brad jumped, believing it to be the creature he had encountered only moments ago. He listened closer and realized the zombies outside must have seen him run into this place.

"Door won't hold. But you can use this when I'm done." The old man coughed from the corner.

"Done with wha—" Brad started to ask. Before he could finish his question, the old man had pulled the trigger. A chunk of his skull was blown away in the blast. Blood splattered the shelf behind him. His body sat limp and lifeless in the corner. Brad turned away and gagged, covering his mouth and nose with one hand. The metallic scent of blood filled the air and mixed with the smells of stale cigarette smoke and mildew. Brad's eyes watered. Suddenly, the door leading into the small cellar burst open. He could hear the footfalls of the dead as they shambled down the steps. He backed up into the corner, nearly tripping over the old man. Brad eyed the shotgun but saw blood oozing over it and grabbed his pistol instead.

One by one they pooled into the room. Brad aimed. He shot four bullets into the crowd, knocking a few of the dead back. Then, he made a run for the stairs. Somehow, he dodged the zombies and sprinted up through the door and down toward the bar. There were a few more of the dead huddled outside the front of the bar, so Brad ran past them and went to the back entrance.

Three more zombies awaited him at the back. He shoved past two and fired a single shot at one, not noticing if he hit it or not. Three bullets left. He stumbled into the bar and slammed the door shut behind him. Behind the counter was another one of the dead. It shuffled toward him with its arms outstretched. It was wearing a tattered police uniform. Brad maneuvered around the counter and aimed at the creature. The back door to the bar flew open. Startled, Brad lost aim and the creature was on him. Its teeth scraped the side of his neck as he fought it off. He shoved it away and took aim once again. He fired. One. Two.

"Brad!" Jill yelled, sprinting around the counter and firing a few rounds into the zombie. It fell to the tiled floor and bled out.

"Brad, hang in there," Jill said.

"I didn't know you were still alive, Jill." Brad spoke, grabbing his neck.

"Why isn't someone doing something about this?" Jill asked, sounding exhausted.

"The police weren't trained for this kind of situation. What could they do?" Brad wondered aloud. He gazed at Jill, overcome with fear. "Listen, he's coming for us…we're both gonna die."

"What are you saying?" Jill sounded impatient. She didn't understand. But Brad was terrified. One bullet left. Just one. Maybe he could save himself.

"You'll see…" Brad warned. "He's after S.T.A.R.S. members…There's no escape." He left through the front door, narrowly evading the cluster of zombies that was outside.

He grabbed his neck, which was now bleeding and headed for the police station. Even if the cops were unprepared, the station would probably be safer than his apartment. The path to the station was a blur. Brad's body broke into a cold sweat. His arm throbbed and ached where he had been bitten hours ago. He peeled back the strip of cloth and saw that the edges of the wound were a purple color with flecks of black. He tossed the blood-caked cloth to the ground and did not stop walking until the R.P.D. was in clear view.

One bullet. If things got worse, he had one bullet left. But how could they get any worse? Jill was alone, so that meant Dario didn't make it. Or maybe he had. Maybe he found Carlos and gotten out. No thanks to Brad. He didn't want to think about Lucia. Hopefully, she would get what was coming to her.

Brad's pace had slowed to a limp. He cradled his swollen, throbbing arm and occasionally swiped at the thick blood seeping from his neck wound. He felt like shit. Like he was getting sick. The R.P.D. was just ahead of him so he limped toward the gate that led into the front entrance. Directly behind him, he heard familiar echoing heavy footfalls. He didn't want to turn around, but his body swiveled on its own.

"S.T.A.R.S." the creature muttered, its one eye focused on Brad.

Brad shoved open the gate and slammed it shut. He turned to see Jill already heading into the R.P.D.

"Jill!" he cried, limping toward her. She turned to approach him but stopped in her tracks. The creature had leapt over the fence and was directly in front of Brad.

"Jill, help!" he cried. The creature reached for him and held him up like before, only this time Brad was much too weak to wriggle free of its grasp.

Though this moment lasted less than a few seconds, inside Brad's mind, time slowed. He was going to die. Maybe he wasn't ready. And he was afraid. But he forced his eyes away from the monster that would kill him and focused on Jill. Her eyes were wide with horror. She was afraid for herself, but she was afraid for him, too. But she had made it. She would fight until this nightmare was over, Brad was sure of that. Even though he could no longer fight to protect her, this moment would give her the chance to escape and to fight. His death would save her.

The pain lasted for the briefest of moments. Then there was darkness.


End file.
